


Step Into Christmas

by denatured



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Joker (2019)
Genre: Academic Realism, Bar Fight, Blood and Gore, Campus Fiction, Campus Grit, Character Development, Christmas Eve, Drabble, Emasculation, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Pre-Harley Quinn, Pre-Joker, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denatured/pseuds/denatured
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, 1998. Psychiatry first-year Harleen finds herself in an uncomfortable position with her rotation supervisor, and Jack isn't thrilled.**01/30/21** Rewrite alert! Formerly titled "Build Me Up, Buttercup."
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone: finally exploring longer narratives in preparation for an upcoming collaboration with @ornelesse. This is a short spin-off from that upcoming work where we intend to explore Jack & Harleen's relationship (pre-TDK) as doctoral students at Gotham University. In this piece, Jack and Harleen already have an established relationship (-ish). Harleen is a first year in the Psychiatry Doctoral Program (PDP@GU), and Jack is a third-year Pharmacology (PH@GU) student. This story will be set in in a hybrid of the Nolanverse and 2019verse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Harleen and Meredith.

_Gotham University, Psychiatry Department, Fl. 4, Rm. 4A09, December 24th, 1998_

The Psychiatry Department at Gotham University was buzzing with fevered talk of Christmas plans, last-minute assignment submissions, and over-break experiments. The warm, sour smell of stale coffee hung in the air, and the hallways were decorated with cheap, shiny decorations from Stanley’s Dollar Shop. It was shortly after noon, and fresh-faced Harleen Quinzel was fumbling at her desk, rapidly clicking and swiping on her borrowed typewriter. All of five feet and three inches, Harleen was a recovering gymnast-turned-scientist from Canarsie, Brooklyn who was admitted to the Psychiatry Ph.D program at _GU_ last Spring. Oh, _last Spring_. Harleen ached to go back to her days as a technician at the local community college and a weekend waitress at Comète Diner. From the casual experiments to the casual boyfriends, it was Tuesday afternoon bliss for a girl like Harleen. Now, she was locked in a doctoral program, and her mind- and heart- were always racing. She swore that she was going to have a heart attack or somethin' one of these days. And it was all 'cause she _just_ wanted to help people. Jack just told her to take it easy and have a Snickers.

Today was the was the final day of her rotation in the laboratory of Dr. Jeremiah Arkham. Well, it wasn’t exactly _his_ laboratory. It was managed by his only post-doctoral fellow, Dr. Byron Meredith. The tight-mouthed Arkham worked predominantly in his laboratory in the lower decks of the Asylum. First year Harleen only met him at her White Coat Ceremony and on her first day of rotation. They exchanged nothing more than toothy smiles and a clammy handshake before she was placed under the direct supervision of the twenty-eight-year-old Meredith. Now, Meredith was a _dream boy_ if there ever was one. The only child from an Irish working-class family from New Jersey, he attended Gotham University on a merit scholarship at seventeen. As an undergraduate, he played linebacker for the football team for three years, scoring their first national win in nearly two decades. He graduated _summa cum laude_ in a double degree in Biochemistry and Art History, and his triumph was printed in _The_ _GU Courier_ . Tall, stocky, yellow-blonde, and hazel-eyed, he always had a girl locked on his arm, going through them like Smarties. He was celebrated by the university and was immediately (re: _begged_ ) accepted to begin his doctorate with Arkham. He finished early, within three years, and moved onto his post-doctoral training and management of the laboratory full-time. He guarded the laboratory and his reputation fiercely, with a desperate, almost wanton, hunger for success- and, on occasion, his _delectable_ trainees. 

It was four months since Meredith's latest trainee started _her_ doctorate, and she struggled to adapt to the “culture” of the department: the late-night work hours, the ever-increasing pressure to perform, and the colorful range of personalities. Absolutely nothing ran smoothly. Patient documents were mislabeled and misplaced, and funding was spotty. There was always flooding in the animal facilities. Last Thursday, Harleen caught two technicians smokin' Cuban cigars and playing Go Fish next to the mouse room. The ceiling pipes often leaked chemical waste from the training laboratories, once burning into her secondhand cashmere as she worked at her bench. Harleen would get back to her studio on the verge of collapse, overworked and underproductive, frustrated at her lack of progress. She spent whole weeks sleeping on her patchy sofa because it was goddamn near impossible for her to drag her knotted, calloused feet into the bedroom. 

She shook her head. _Focus_ , she thought firmly. “Blue Christmas” played softly over her dusty Walkman radio as she organized her final manuscript. Her six-week rotation in Arkham's laboratory was sloppy, and Meredith tugged at Harleen like a ragdoll. He kept her past midnight for human experiments and expected an analysis and discussion, with _at least_ a page of fully written statistics, on his desk that same day. _It’s Jeremiah_ , Harleen would tell herself in shower as she buried her sore fingers into her thick, black-blonde tresses, _I’m lucky to even be here_.

Jack would scoff whenever she said that.

“Don’t let him play you like a fiddle, Harl,” she remembered him saying as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee and took a bite of his glazed doughnut. It was the first day of her rotation, and they were sharing a coffee in the breakroom before she headed to the laboratory that early evening. “I know how he is with the first years, especially ones like you,” Jack said as he took another messy bite, eyeing her.

Harleen made a soured face. “Don’t say stuff like that, Jack, c’ _mon_ ,” she said as she grabbed his coffee cup from in front of him and took a sip. “What do ya _mean_ , anyway?” she asked.

“Ya _know_ what I mean, Harl. Don’t give me that look- it’s already three-thirty. Get outta here before you’re late.”

“Shit,” Harleen quickly patted the crumbs off her pencil skirt and stood up, swinging her oversized Jansport onto her shoulder. “Just remember what I told ya, and you’ll be fine,” Jack said as he crossed his legs and stretched into his chair, resting his arms behind his head. “Ya _hear_ me? Don’t go askin’ anythin’ before they get… ya know.”

“Yeah, I know," Harleen said as she leaned over the table and ruffled his ashy blonde waves. “I’ll call you later.”

“ _Mmhmm_.” Jack hummed as Harleen scurried off.

Harleen thumbed through her freshly printed manuscript, doing a quick glance over for any errors. _Alright_ , she thought. She walked to the end of the laboratory, where Meredith’s office was located. The large space was filled with the white noise of different refrigerators, freezers, and centrifuges. Looked like the rest of the personnel had taken the week off for the Christmas holiday.

“Dr. Meredith?” Harleen knocked on his polished wooden door. “Come,” Meredith called impatiently. Harleen opened the door and walked into the stuffy, carpeted office. The beige-yellow walls were lined with flooded bookcases and discolored ornate frames that housed his degrees and accolades. Harleen noticed a hardcover copy of Machiavelli's "The Prince" on one of the shelves, along with an assortment of titles written by Amadeus Arkham, including "A History of the Criminally Insane" and "The Diseased of Gotham City." Harleen hummed to herself and clicked her tongue.

“Lock the door,” he said, his eyes fixed on an open case file in front of him. Harleen clicked the lock and took a seat in front of his desk, her back slowly stiffening as she tried to steady her breathing. She felt her hands growing warm as she watched his lazy hazel eyes dart across the papers in front of him, his flop of dark blonde hair slicked back with hair gel that she could smell from across his desk. She fingered the golden chain on her neck as her mind slid into memories of the other night.

_Gotham University, Psychiatry Department, Fl. 4, Inpatient Study Room B3, December 20th, 1998_

“Doct _ah_ \- I mean, Doct _or_ Meredith, it’s after two in the morning. May I please head back home? I can review the tapes later in the morning before the presentation.” Harleen leaned forward in her seat and rubbed her eyes, stray brown hairs falling in front of her face. She adjusted her glasses as she watched the unnamed patient sleep behind the glass window. The flashing light of the monitor barely kept her awake as they observed the patients’ brain activity with soft, pixelated waves scrolling across the black screen. 

Meredith shifted in his seat and continued writing on his clipboard. “Sleep at mine, then,” he said in one breath, his words landing heavily on Harleen's ears.

She stopped writing and blinked- “Huh?” she asked, turning her head to him.

Meredith shrugged. “Well, I live a _stone’s throw_ away from campus, Harleen,” he said, "I told you this before, 'member?"

" _Uh_ , I don't-" Harleen started.

"You _do_ ," Meredith said beneath his breath. Harleen's voice cracked when she opened her mouth to say something. "Don't play dumb,” he said as he continued to write, his beady eyes fixated on his current page. “Typical for a _charity_ recruit like _you_. Probably couldn’t afford better housing.”

Harleen didn’t know what to do as she felt her underarms beginning to soak through her too-tight turtleneck. She lightly cracked her neck and shifted in her seat, crossing her legs, her toes curling in her Chelsea boots. She looked down at her clipboard and picked up her pen, nervously scribbling in the margins. She chuckled lightly, trying to think of a joke. She turned again to look at her supervisor. “That’s so… _thoughtful_ of you, Dr. Meredith,” she forced out, “thank you, really, for the offer, but I-“

“It’s Byron,” he looked up at her. His expression was cloudy with a look that made Harleen’s tongue turn to sand paper. Her smile fell as she watched him stop writing, place his clipboard on his knee, and outstretch his hand to rest it on her shoulder, kneading his fingers into the muscle. He rubbed his middle finger against her bra strap. He licked his bottom lip and gave it a small tug with his front teeth, his mouth curling into a boyish smirk. He squeezed. “What do you say? I’m sure that you’ve got no one at home anyway.” He leaned toward her, his warm breath hitting her face. “Aren’t I right, Har _leen_?”

“I-“ Harleen started, the reek his sweat and cheap cologne burning her nostrils, “I-I don’t think- think- that this, uh, is appropriate, Dr. Meredith.” Harleen said as she pulled away slightly, trying to smile, a deep blush crawling across her cheeks. Her thoughts were becoming incoherent as he leaned in a bit closer. He quickly slid his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, squeezing lightly and holding her in place. Harleen held her breath as white hot panic set in. His overgrown nails scratched at the baby hairs that lined her neck. He absentmindedly fingered the back of her necklace, wrapping it around his thick fingers as he gazed intently at her. _I know how he is with the first years, especially ones like you._

The pad of his thumb traced along her thumping jugular. He rested on her pulse for a moment as Harleen’s dark eyes bore into him. “If I gave you an extension, would that make this feel better?”

_Gotham University, Psychiatry Department, Fl. 4, Rm. 4A09, December 24th, 1998_

He sighed as he licked his thumb and began to finger through the papers in the manila folder. “Heard of Arthur Fleck?

Harleen turned her head and refocused her attention at Meredith. “S-sorry, who?”

“Nevermind,” he breathed as he closed the folder and moved it onto the pile on his desk. “Let me see what you have there,” he extended his hand. As Harleen handed him the thirty-seven-page report, she noticed the gold band on his ring finger.

“Alright,” he sighed as he sank into his plush leather seat, skimming the papers. Harleen crossed her legs as she sat uncomfortably in her seat, the feeling of his nails against her neck making her itch. She bit her lip, the wax of her Bordeaux lipstick getting in her mouth. She was wearing her secondhand cashmere sweater rolled at the arms, a pair of high-waisted jeans, and her coffee-colored Chelsea boots. Her hair was wrapped in a messy ponytail. She hadn’t washed it in two weeks.

“Page three,” Meredith’s voice cut through the room. He placed the report on the desk, turning it to face Harleen. “Explain your methods here,” he pointed with his red pen.

Two long hours passed as they went back-and-forth, Harleen explaining her methods repeatedly as they worked through the report. “Harleen,” Meredith sighed as he capped his marker and rested his arms on the desk, “what am I going to _do_ with you?" he asked as he handed the report, bright red and angry, back to her.

"What do you mean?" Harleen asked, cautiously taking the report from his extended hand, glancing down at it. 

"Tell you what," he said, reclining into his seat, "why don’t we discuss this over a drink?” he folded his arms as he leaned back, rolling his shoulders.

“A drink?” Harleen smiled awkwardly, looking up from her paper as the taste of the bile splashed into the back of her throat.

“A holiday drink, _Harl_. Stop being such a prude and have a Christmas drink with big, old Merry. I ain’t all bad, right?” Meredith said with a toothy grin, extending his arms out. “Right?” he asked again.

Harleen chuckled dryly. “It would be _much_ easier talking about your crapshoot of a paper with some Manhattans,” he laughed, “I know that you could use the, ah, _help_ , and maybe the bar is the best place to do it, huh?”

“You know what? Ya _damn_ right, Dr. Meredith," Harleen said without a second thought, "that would be _fun_."

“ _Attagirl_!" Meredith slammed a hand onto the desk. "Baba O’ Riley’s at seven? They’ve got a happy hour special that goes till ten tonight,” Meredith buzzed.

“Sure, whatevah you want,” Harleen said as she stuffed the report into her backpack, stood up, nodded at him, and made her way to the door.

“See you then- and don’t forget to bring your report with you," Meredith winked, stealing a quick glance at her rear.

She flashed a smile at him and nodded again before she walked out, letting the door slam shut behind her. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short introduction to Jack. Jack and Harleen have a phone call before she heads to Baba O' Reilly's.

_Gotham University, Pharmacology Department, Fl. 3, Rm. 3B17, December 24th, 1998_

Jack swung in his chair, laughing as he pipetted a volume of the antibody dilution out of the foil-wrapped Eppendorf tube. He dropped it carefully over his tissue sample on his dimly lit work bench. “Is that right, _Slick Rick_?” he called over his shoulder, “yer gonna wine and dine _Fran_ tonight?”

“You can shove it where the sun don’t shine, Pretty Boy,” Rick, the other graduate student in Achilles Milo’s laboratory, called from his bench as Jack snickered and bit his tongue. “Feliz Navidad” started playing over the Sony boombox on Rick’s bench. He quickly turned it up, the gleeful sounds of horns and maracas bouncing off the ice cold walls.

“I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas,” he started singing and swaying dramatically, “I wanna wish you a _Merry_ Christmas, I wanna wish you a _Merry Christmas_ , from the bottom-of-my- _heart_!” Rick sang, arms raised and clearly tone-deaf. Jack howled with laughter. “This fuckin’ kid,” he said under breath as he prepared his sample for incubation. He rolled his shoulders and leaned into the samples, picking them up and giving them a gentle tap, tap, _tap_. The thick, clear fluid bubbled across the brain sections, covering them evenly. 

Dr. Achilles Milo, renown neurochemist and pharmacologist, ran a competitive laboratory in the Department of Pharmacology at Gotham University. Unlike his colleague (re: _enemy_ ) Jeremiah, he was vocal about his research to almost anyone who would, or wouldn't, listen. He was determined to patent his mind-altering synthetics and have them prescribed to all of the patients in the Asylum as part of their rehabilitation program. He wanted to single-handedly reform Gotham’s criminal underbelly and reap the wealth, bringing Gotham back to dizzying heights and making _a name_ for himself. But Jack Napier, his most prized graduate student, wasn’t a disciple of Milo. “It’s all about power with _this one_ ,” Jack had mused to Rick late one evening at the bench, “he’s just pissed that Lizzie walked out for a beefier guy. Can I blame her?”

The experimental workload of the laboratory was shouldered by two graduate students, third-year Jack and second-year Rick Salvatore. Jack always thought that Milo was a bit _off_ with a _raging_ hard-on for power, but it didn’t affect him, or his work, too much. That’s how he liked it. Sure, he’d pull an eighty- to ninety-hour week, but it’s not like Jack slept much anyway- except when he crashed at Harleen’s. 

Harleen was the apple of Jack's eye. She was delicate and rough, vulnerable and indulgent. She clung to him at every waking moment- and who _wouldn't_? Jack was self-assured, Jack was confident, Jack had devilishly good looks, and Jack didn't _fuck around_. Everything that Harleen pined for was in Jack, somewhere. He knew that. It had only been a few weeks- or months- and, no, they didn't seal the deal. Jack didn't feel like he needed to, not yet. He was waiting it out with this one. She was different. They'd get close, but Jack knew that she wasn't ready. Poor darlin' had her share of hiccups in the past and the scars to show for 'em. He wanted to make it, uh, what'd they call it? Oh, right: special. Yeah, Harleen was special. And he didn't really plan, he wasn't into thinkin' about the future, but on some nights, he was certain of one thing: he wanted her in it.

“ _Boys_ ,” Milo bellowed from his office, opening the door. “Shit,” Rick whispered as he quickly turned down the volume. “For the love of _God_ , lower it down, will you?” Milo yelled.

“Sorry, Achilles,” Rick responded, waggling his dark eyebrows at Jack. “I just have so much Christmas spirit-“ Jack snorted as Ricky continued, “-and I just don’t know _what_ to do with myself.” Jack held the bridge of his nose to stifle his laughter.

“O- _kay_ , Rick… Once you’re finished, just head out, please, this is too much spirit for me right now,” Milo said dismally.

“Roger that, Doc,” Rick said. Milo slammed the door of his office shut. Rick exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes, dropping his handful of Eppendorf tubes onto his cluttered bench. 

“Old man’s got his panties in a knot, huh?” Rick scowled as he took off the boombox, pushed down its antenna, and put it back into his bottom drawer. He kicked the drawer shut.

“You know that he gets all, uh, _senti-men-tal_ this time a’year,” Jack said as he dropped his samples into the fridge for incubation. He set the timer on the door of the refrigerator and walked back to his bench.

“ _Uh-huh_ ," Rick eyed Jack as he walked back. “What about you?” Rick asked as he began to clean his own work space.

“What about _me_?” Jack stepped over to Rick, hands buried in the pockets of his stained lab coat. “Napier” and a smiley face were scrawled in Sharpie along his right-breast pocket.

“What are you doin’ over the holiday, Jackie baby? Anythin’ special?” Rick asked as he sprayed seventy-percent ethanol over his equipment and started to vigorously wipe them down with paper towel.

Jack lifted his head in thought, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Not really,” he started, “I don’t really, ah, do the whole ‘Christmas’ thing.”

“Ye _ah_?” Rick said, looking up at him with a curious look, “whaddabout Harleen?”

“Whaddabout her?” Jack responded, clenching his jaw and watching Ricky's ministrations. 

“ _She_ do anythin’?”

“Fuck if I know,” Jack shrugged, “she’s Jewish.”

“So what?” Rick said as he tossed the paper towels away in the waste bin. He waddled over to his desk to pack his always-stuffed briefcase. “Every _body_ out here celebratin’ Christmas these days. You know, I once met these two girls over at Grin and Bare It that-”

“Al _right_ , that’s enough talk therapy for today,” Jack raised his hands, his face crumpling. “I’ll wash your membranes over the weekend. I _know_ , I know, I’m a sain _t_. Just don’t get too shitfaced with your sister, okay?” Jack nodded to Ricky, placing one hand on his cocked hip. He shot a finger gun with his other hand and crudely rolled and poked his tongue into his cheek.

“Ya _sick_ , Jack,” Rick gawked, “you _know_ I love Angie.”

“I bet you do, Slick. Tell her I said ‘hi.’” They stood in brief silence as Rick muttered something under his breath and threw on his steely wool overcoat. He locked his desk drawer. "Ya done?" Jack asked hastily. "Yeah," Ricky sighed, giving his desk a final glace over. 

“Now, _scram_ , will ya? I gotta finish reading some papers,” Jack nodded to the back of the laboratory, where his desk was.

“Love you, too, J,” Rick said as he pulled on his _GU_ beanie and shuffled out the door, briefcase in hand.

Jack turned on his heel and walked back to his cluttered desk, pulled out his chair, and plopped down. He rolled his neck and grunted as he heard a staccato of pops. “Fuck,” he sighed deeply. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head vigorously in an attempt to wake himself up. He rolled his shoulders and placed both of his feet on his desk, reclining into his chair as he grabbed his "Good morning, Sunshine!" coffee mug (a gift from the Department, those _assholes_ ) from the morning, downing the last mouthful. The thought of Harleen on his lap in that oversized shirt with nothin' underneath snuck into his head. He closed his eyes and remembered her from the other night, crawling onto his lap in a fit of giggles. He loved seeing her laugh. He didn't have to do much to make her come twice that night. She fell fast asleep right after, and so did he. The only time that he could sleep soundly was when she was curled against him and not foolin' around _outside_ with those two-timers that she called "friends." He hummed and suddenly heard a loud beep. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at his desk. The number one flashed on his answering machine. He pressed “Play.”

“ _Hey_ , call me- bye.”

Jack quickly grabbed his telephone and dialed in. Three rings later, Harleen answered.

“Hello?” Harleen breathed.

“You called?”

“Yeah, I’m heading back to Central now. Wanna grab a bite or somethin’?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be done for the day? Thought you were, uh, going home," Jack said as he began to unbutton his collar with his free hand.

“Nah… Get this- Meredith wants to get me _drinks_ tonight," Harleen leaned into the mouthpiece, whispering.

Jack's eyes widened. “ _What_?”

“ _Yeah_ , he wants to ‘discuss my paper.’” 

Harleen could hear Jack seething over the line. 

“It’s bullshit, I know," she said. She hated whenever he got upset. "I don’t wanna be 'round him _at all_ ," she sighed as she rested her head in her free hand. "I’m so tired of 'im, Jack... But I know that if I don’t show face tonight, he’s gonna run his mouth to Arkham.”

“And say wha _t_?” Jack forced out.

“ _I don’t know_. I jus'... Don’t wanna risk it, ya know? I’m already in hot water, and I jus' want this fuckin’ rotation to be over," Harleen quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was behind her.

“Mm, tell you what. I’ll come over tonight.”

“To O’Reilly’s?” Harleen squeaked.

“ _Yeah_ , what’s he gonna do? Fucking pansy little-”

“You gonna talk to him?” Harleen interrupted.

“I don’t _know_. I don't _plan_ these things, Harl. I just don’t want you to be alone with him."

Harleen winced. “Ya know, Jack, maybe I should, ah, handle this myself? I don't wanna drag you into this and-and…“

“And have him try to _rail_ you again in front of a patient? Huh?”

“ _Jack_."

“ _Stop_ making excuses for him, Harleen. I’m _fucking_ sick of that shit-"

"I'm _not_!" Harleen protested loudly. She gasped and covered her mouth, looking over her shoulder again. Meredith's door was still locked.

"You _are_ , and you need to listen to me right _now_ , okay?" Jack leaned into the mouthpiece, "You’re not _that_ weak," he said. "I'm comin' tonight, and we'll see what 'appens.”

Harleen sighed and rolled her eyes. “Al _right_ , Jack, I get _it_." She paused. “Don't be mad, okay? I’ll see you at O’Reilly’s at seven,” she added quietly.

“Bye,” he said before dropping the phone on the hook. He pulled his feet off his desk and rolled his neck, a loud _pop_ causing him to groan. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me one of these days," he muttered as he pulled out his pack of smokes. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack, Harleen, and Meredith meet at Baba O' Reilly's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major TW for non-consensual masturbation and graphic violence. Please take care of yourselves and/or ignore this chapter if that makes you uncomfortable!

_Baba O’ Reilly’s Irish Pub, Downtown Gotham, December 24th, 1998_

Harleen pushed through the heavy oak door at the front entrance of the bar. The bell above the door chimed brightly as she walked into the dank pub. She grimaced as she was smacked with the smell of Guinness, mistletoe, and mold. The jukebox in the corner was spitting out “Step Into Christmas,” and she quickly eyed the burgundy leather booths for Meredith. She didn’t see him, so she walked over to the bar. Mickey, the head bartender, was wiping down glasses.

“Oh-ho- _ho_ , ain’t it Harleen Fran _ces_ comin’ in before seven!” Mickey laughed heartily. “My shift ends in five minutes, lil’ lady. I can pour ya something fast before Bobito rolls in.”

“Aw, ya too sweet, Mickey,” Harley smiled, “just whatever’s on tap tonight is fine for me, thanks.”

“Comin’ up, Harley.”

Harleen looked around again as she leaned on the bar. She drank in the sight of the flickering amber glow against the oak. Bars and strip joints always _did it_ for her; she couldn’t understand why. She hummed absentmindedly and drummed her fingers against the bar. “Here ya go, baby. It’s on me,” Mickey said, plopping a tall glass of stout in front of Harleen.

“ _Aw_! You sure? Please, don’t, s’alright-“ she said as she began digging through the pockets of her oversized leather jacket.

“It’s Christmas, Harley, puh- _lease_. You’re in here more than enough.”

Harleen gave a shy lopsided grin and stopped digging. She took a deep sip of her beer, humming happily. “You’re too good to me, Mickey.”

“You deserve it! I’m signing off. Can ya man the fort till Bobito comes in?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make sure no one causes any trouble,” Harleen winked playfully.

Mickey walked into the back of the bar, through the kitchens. Harley overheard him saying something in Spanish to the house staff as the doors swung shut. Harley hummed. She took another sip of her beer, looking around. The clock on the wall read 7:03PM.

She wasn’t sure if Jack was going to show up before Meredith. Either way, it would be better to have Jack in her corner if anything happened. At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself as she swallowed another mouthful of her beer. She couldn’t remember how it started. She ran into him at her White Coat Ceremony. From then on, they always seemed to bump into each other- at the local coffeeshop, in the library, in the breakroom, on her street, and once, in her apartment lobby. He was just _always_ around, and he _always_ knew what to say. He offered advice, kept her in line, and made sure that she didn’t get in the way of her own success.

“Bobito, coulda ya refill me? It’s on Mickey’s tab. _Thank_ you!”

She remembered walking into her apartment one evening just to find him lounging on her sofa, feet propped on her coffee table, flicking through the channels.

“Do ya always leave your door open, Harleen?”

She screamed, covering her mouth to avoid alarming the neighbors. She quickly stepped in and kicked the door shut.

“Uh… _no_. I guess that I forgot..? I had to leave early this morning to finish an experiment,” Harleen admitted. Why was she justifying herself to the person who had broken into her apartment? It wasn’t _just_ anybody, though, it was _Jack_. Jack was her only friend in this _hoity-toity_ program, the only smile that she saw at least once a day, and the only number rackin’ up her phone bill. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't that _weird_ , right? They were friends- yeah, they were _friends_ who shared a mattress and microwaveable meals. And Harleen wanted to jump Jack's bones so many times that it was dizzying to keep count. Still, they never really got that far. He kept goin' on about "waiting" and all that Mister Rogers' _crap_. 

As much as she fuckin' ached for Jack, something didn’t sit right with her. She’d thank him, of course, for keeping an eye out this one time. She’d pay for his bus fare, maybe get him a coffee or two during the week. Maybe she could-

“Well,” Jack gave a lopsided grin, beckoning her over with the remote control, “don’t want ya to get chopped into _little pieces_ in these parts, right?” Harleen laughed dryly, her feet planted by the door. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and shrugged awkwardly. She loosely fingered the keys in her pocket.

Jack tongued the inside of his cheek, seeing that she was still startled. Aw, poor Harl. She just wasn't used to having someone at her beck and call, huh? “ _Listen_ , there’s Chinese in the fridge. Got the dumplings that you liked." Radio silence. Jack recalculated. He thought it would be best to just play it cool. "You okay if I crash tonight?” he asked nonchalantly.

Harleen stared at him wildly. 

“Hello?” Jack waved the remote at her.

“Yeah,” she squeaked suddenly, “yeah, that’s-that’s fine. Did you buy enough for two?” Harleen made her way toward the sofa, shrugging off her jacket.

Jack chuckled. Ah, his _Harleen_ , always playing hard to get. “You _know_ I did. You gonna watch _Wheel_ with me or what?”

The bell on the oak door chimed, and Harleen turned around. It was Meredith. “Fuck,” Harleen whimpered beneath her breath.

“Hey, Harleen!” Meredith waved as he walked over to her. “Hiya, Doc!” Harleen called, smiling and raising her near empty glass. He reached the bar and grinned broadly at her. “Thrilled that you could make it out of your rathole tonight, my dear. Seems like you already got started without me!” he tapped and flicked her glass playfully.

Harleen giggled, draining the last sip. “I was early, might as well.”

“Can’t say I blame you," he said, looking at her in the eye. There was that _look_ again. Harleen swallowed and smiled awkwardly. "Booth?" Meredith asked, turning his attention away from Harleen and looking around.

“Yeah, sure!” Harleen turned to Bobito, who nodded to a booth in the back, by the restrooms.

“A round of beers for the table, Harl?” Bobito asked just as she was about to head over.

“No need," Meredith raised his hand, "could you just get us a round of Manhattans? Double, extra Maraschinos." He rested a warm hand on Harleen’s lower back, lightly drumming his fingers. Harleen felt her neck grow stiff but kept giggling as her eyes danced from from Meredith back to Bobito. 

“Uh,” Bobito looked at Harleen quizzically and then back to Meredith, “o- _kay_ , Boss.”

“Thanks, Big Boy. Alright-y, Harleen, let’s go.” Meredith gave Harleen a gentle push into the direction of the booths. 

They walked over to the back booth in the corner of the bar. Harleen slid into the seat closest to the restroom, and Meredith slid into the seat opposite to her. He quickly shrugged off his overcoat and wool scarf.

“S’cold out there, huh?” he asked, eyeing Harleen who kept herself wrapped in her leather jacket.

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“Aren’t you _cold_? You’re basically _naked_ out there, little thing like you.”

“My _other_ coat is at the cleaners, just wearing this one for now. You know how it is,” Harleen laughed, placing her backpack beneath the table.

“Actually, no, I don’t,” Meredith said calmly. “Tell me, Harleen,” he leaned into the table, “I’m yours tonight. I would just love to hear about what _ticks_ in that brain of yours.” Meredith folded his hands in front of her, smiling wistfully.

“Mahattans, double, extra cherries.” Bobito stomped over, carefully placing the drinks in front of them. “Take this,” Meredith said, quickly stuffing a crisp twenty into Bobito's hand, “keep the change, I’m paying per round.” Bobito looked at Harleen again. “O- _kay_ , thanks, Boss, 'ppreciate ya,” he said awkwardly before shuffling back to the bar.

“Here, let’s have a toast,” Meredith said, holding up his drink. “Uh, okay,” Harleen said, grabbing hers, its contents splashing out of the glass and onto the sticky tabletop. “To the end of this horrible rotation,” he clicked her glass once, “and the start of a new friendship,” he clicked again before taking a sip.

Harleen held her glass up and looked at him curiously. “Was I really _that bad_ , Dr. Meredith?”

He put his glass down and barked out a laugh. “Of course, _girl_! You were _fucking_ dreadful.” Harleen knocked back her drink in one mouthful and crossed her legs tightly, the seams of her jeans rubbing into her thighs. “I just kept you because you were the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a very long time. And boy, I’ve been here for _years_.”

Harleen winced as the alcohol crawled up her throat. “Someone’s thirsty, huh? Let me get you another round. Hey, one more!” Meredith turned to Bobito and gestured to Harleen, who was passing a hand through her hair and mouthed “ _I don’t know_ ” to him. Bobito nodded at Harleen and gave a thumbs up to Meredith as he prepared her drink. 

“B-but Doctah Meredith,” Harleen asked, looking back at him, her eyes glossy, “I don’t, I mean, I’m _flattered_ , _really_ , but-“

“Come on, Harleen, it’s Byron,” Meredith leaned in again, his sturdy ankle rubbing against hers. “No need to be _so_... formal. I just want to help you succeed. I see _something_ in you. I don’t know what, but I think that you can pull it off, _whatever it is_ you’re trying to achieve here.”

Harleen tried to pull her legs back, but Meredith hooked his foot around hers, keeping her in place. 

He slid a hand over hers, the band on his finger flicking in the candlelight. “Stop being so stubborn and let _me_ -”

“Hey, sorry to crash office hours over here,” Jack said coolly as he walked over to the booth.

“ _Jack_!” Harleen squealed, snatching her hands away from Meredith and outstretching her arms to him. Meredith released her feet and stole a mouthful of his drink, turning his head away.

“Hiya, _baby_ ,” he scooted into the booth next to her, and Harleen slid her arms beneath his army jacket and hugged him tightly. He loosely draped an arm over her shoulder. He firmly kissed her head, and she giggled, looking up at him. He leaned down and kissed her twice on the mouth.

Harleen leaned her head against Jack’s shoulder as his arm fell to her waist beneath the table. “Dr. Meredith, haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going, uh, sir?”

Meredith blinked, dumbfounded. He carefully placed his glass back onto the table. “It’s going well, Jack. Still with Milo?”

“Yessir,” Jack nodded, thumbing the waistband of Harleen’s jeans.

“Uh, sorry, I want to ask you more about your work, Jack, but I didn’t know that _you two_? You two were, uh..?” Meredith stuttered, looking back and forth between them.

“Yeah, Harleen and I have been seeing each other for the last few months now,” Jack said, giving her a squeeze. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Harleen looked up at Jack and beamed. “You’re _so sweet_ , Jack.”

“Only for you, Harl,” he looked down at her and kissed her forehead and her nose. Harleen giggled brightly.

“Oh, sorry, I’m just surprised..? She never mentioned you-“ Meredith laughed nervously, popping a cherry into his mouth.

“I wanna another drink,” Harleen said, pouting, “Jack, wanna get something with me?”

“Harleen, I can-“ Meredith interjected.

“ _Nah_ , I wanna go up with Jack and see what he wants, if that’s okay wit’ you?” Harleen looked at Meredith. Jack nodded at Meredith emphatically. 

“Uh, sure,” Meredith surrendered, leaning into the booth.

“We’ll be back in a jiffy, Merry,” Jack said as he slid out, grabbing Harleen by the elbow. They quickly walked over to the bar.

“ _Thank God_ , Jack,” Harleen sighed as she turned to him, leaning onto the bar and signaling to Bobito to come over. She tucked a loose curl behind Jack’s ear. He smelled strongly of tobacco and a chemical waste container- bitter, pungent, and acidic. Must've administered finals to the the undergraduate General Chemistry training lab today. 

“Napier,” Bobito said, walking over to them. “Robbie,” Jack nodded.

“The usual?” Bobito sighed, hands on hips.

“Yeah,” Jack said, looking down at Harleen and pinching her cheek. Bobito walked away and prepped Jack's libation. “Cute as a fuckin’ button,” Jack muttered as he gazed down at his girl.

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully and giggled again. She tiptoed and placed a quick peck on his lips. “You just left, huh, J? Did you have work to finish?” Harleen hiccupped. 

“Yeah, but s’fine. Goin’ in this weekend anyway.”

“You still comin’ ova’ tonight, right?” Harleen asked eagerly. Bobito placed a glass of neat scotch in front of Jack.

“’Course, baby,” he said as he took a sip. “Now,” he said, placing his glass back on the bar, “tell me what that scum is up to. Looked pretty tight with you over there.”

“Yeah, he, uh, got handsy again,” Harleen said as she reached for Jack’s glass and took a sip.

“ _Mmm_. Did you bring what I told you to?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to use it," Harleen pouted.

Jack clicked his tongue. “We’ve _gone over this_ -“

“I know, I just don’t know _how_. What if I hurt myself?”

Jack sighed dramatically, resting his elbows on the bar and passing a hand through his unkept hair. “Ah, knowing you, Harl, you just might.”

Harleen playfully slapped his arm as he took another sip of his scotch. Jack looked at her through the corner of his eye and smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows. Harleen laughed. He could never, ever be mad at his Harleen. Bobito suddenly placed a glass in front of her. “ _Ooh_ , thanks!” she called as he walked to tend to other patrons at the other end of the bar. He gave her a thumbs up.

“Wanna head out?" Jack asked, looking down at Harleen as she took a tip of her Scotch. "I wanna a cig.”

“What are we gonna do with _him_?” Harleen nodded to the booth where Meredith was still sitting.

“I’ll be fast.”

“Okay, lemme tell ‘im.” Harleen ran back to the booth and leaned next to Meredith. “So we’re gonna go out for a quick smoke… Are you alright by ya’self here? We’ll be back _real soon_.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll get another around, no worries at all,” Meredith smiled awkwardly.

“Okay, thanks!” Harleen squeaked, running back to the bar, mouthing “ _let’s go_ ” to Jack. She nodded to Bobito and headed out.

They stepped out of the bar, and Harleen deeply inhaled the crisp, cold air. Jack leaned against the brick wall and pulled out his pack of Newport menthols. “I got ya,” Harleen said, taking out her oxblood Bic lighter, shielding the flame with her hands as she brought it to Jack’s face. He leaned in and gave a few quick puffs before he pulled back, exhaling. 

Harleen took a step back. “You know that I love whenever you're around, baby, but you didn’t have to come by tonight. I know that you had a lot to wrap up today with the kids.”

Jack shook his head. “Can’t let him keep playing with you like that.”

“He _wasn’t_ , though-“

“He _was_ , Harl," Jack sighed, knots forming in his shoulders. She set him off again. "I don’t wanna fight with you right now, okay?” He tried his best to sound calm. Well, sort-of calm.

“I jus’ don’t wanna get in trouble, _that’s all_.”

“ _Trouble_ ,” Jack scoffed, “these fuckin’ _rules_ are the reason why he can get away with fuckin’ you and passin’ you over to the next chump in the department.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, fixated on the cars speeding past on the dimly lit road in front of them.

Harleen looked at her scruffy Chelsea boots and rolled on her heels back and forth. She drank in what Jack was saying as the alcohol flooded her veins. “You- you think he was gonna go that far, huh?” she asked quietly. It was a stupid question, but it was better to say somethin' than have Jack think that she was defending Merry.

Jack turned back to Harleen. “I _know_ he was gonna go that far.” After a pause, Jack asked, “would I lie to you?”

“No,” Harleen said quickly, looking up at him. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me,” Harleen stepped over to him, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and taking a deep drag. He raised a brow at her. He rested his arms heavily against her shoulders as she looked around, puffing away at his menthol. Jack rolled his neck, cracking it loudly. 

“Then don’t act like a fool right now, Harl," Jack said, looking down at Harleen. "Just- _just_ let me take care of this, okay? " 

Harleen frowned at him, placing the cigarette back in between his lips. “Don’t rough ‘im up too much, 'kay? I know how you get.”

Jack took a final puff and dropped his arms from her shoulders. He rubbed the cigarette butt on the brick wall and stomped on it. “You don’t worry about that. You should go home, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“But Jack-“

“Go _home_ , Harl,” he cupped the side of her face. She looked up at him. She was drunk and upset: the usual. Jack leaned in and kiss her hard on the mouth. The taste of tobacco, scotch, and winter caught in her throat. Harleen moaned, sliding an arm around his neck. Jack suddenly pulled away, kissing her soundly on the cheek. She laughed. Just as he was about to stand back, he quickly leaned back in and bit her cheek the way that she liked. “ _Stop_ ,” she whined, “that tickles, Jack!”

Jack finally stepped away and smoothed her unruly hair with his hand. “Be good for me, and I’ll be there in a few.”

“' _Kay_. Don’t forget the pickles with the pastrami,” she said, tiptoeing to kiss the corner of his mouth before she turned to walk down the block.

“I won’t,” he said impatiently. “Now, get outta here, baby.”

“I’ll leave the door open,” Harleen called as she walked away. Jack watched until she made the turn, where she gave him a small wave under the flickering streetlight. Once she was out of sight, he walked back into the pub.

He stomped over to the bar and quickly downed the two glasses of scotch that they left sitting there. Bobito watched, horrified. “Damn, man, what’d she do?”

Jack winced and coughed. “ _Nothin_ ’, just gotta deal with some pricks tonight,” he gritted out.

“Godspeed, brotha'. Didn’t like that asshole over there anyway.”

Jack nodded at Bobito and walked back to the booth where Meredith was reading a paper and absentmindedly sucking on a Maraschino from another Manhattan. The table was littered with several near empty glasses and used napkins.

“Heya, Jack! Where’s Harleen?”

“Ah,” Jack said, sliding into the booth, “she had to go home, she wasn’t feeling so great.”

“ _Aw_ , that’s just too bad. Best I get going, then,” he hiccupped. “I needed to discuss her paper with her, but I’ll just grab the check and head to the washroom, if that’s okay with you?”

“Go ahead, Merry. I don’t mind.”

“If you ‘scuse me.” Meredith smiled tightly, slid out of the booth, and stepped to the restrooms behind them.

Jack counted to thirty before he slid out of the booth and followed him, slamming open the restroom door.

Meredith was standing at a urinal in the back. He turned his head to see Jack walking towards him. “Everything okay, Jackie?” he hiccupped. 

“Actually, I wanted to, uh, have a little one-on-one with you, Meredith,” Jack said coming up behind him and swiftly grabbing him by the back of his thick neck and thrusting him into the opposite wall, his stream of urine splattering across the floor.

“What the fuck?” Meredith yelled as Jack slammed his head again into the wall with a _splat_. He whimpered. Jack grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the wall one more time, blood sputtering from his forehead.

“ _Fuck_ , Jack!”

“So, uh,” Jack panted in Meredith’s ear, “Harleen told me that you’ve been getting a _bit_ too up close and pers-uh-nal, is that right?” He tightened his grip on Meredith’s hair.

“Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about-“ Meredith gritted out as Jack slammed his head again. He howled.

“What was tha _t_?” Jack pulled out his switchblade with his free hand, clumsily placing it on Meredith’s fat jugular. Meredith looked down and panted.

“That _stupid_ bitch,” Meredith roared suddenly, blood filling his nostrils, “she gave me no-choice-“

Jack pulled him to the ground by the hair and kicked him heel first in the face. Meredith screamed and clutched his mangled nose. “Don’t-“ he swiftly kicked him in the gut, “you-“ another kick, “try-“ three more kicks, “ _to fuck with her again_ , am I clear?”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you fucking _lowlife piece of shit,_ ” Meredith barked through his sobs, rolling on his back and clutching his nose. Jack laughed, looking at Meredith’s thick flaccid cock resting against the crotch of his unbuckled tweed trousers. He rolled his tongue around his mouth. “You know, Merry, I think that I need to give you a bit of a present this holiday.”

Jack spit in his hand and kneeled down. He grabbed Meredith’s cock and gave it a few weak pumps. “ _Mmm_ , like that?" Meredith's breath caught in his throat as he started to hyperventilate. "Bet your students are good at this by the time they leave,” Jack singsonged. “Ah, _that’s it_ , _that's it_ , look at tha _t_.” He felt Meredith going stiff in his grip.

“Jack, you twisted _fuck_ , just fucking _leave me alone_ -“ Meredith groaned and spit.

“I don’t, uh, think that you got my message _clear_ ly.” Jack held his switchblade at the base of Meredith’s cock and with an inhale, he pressed into the flesh, slowly cutting through. Meredith shrieked and kicked as Jack climbed on top of him, pressing his legs down with his own. He tried to hold him steady as he slowly and messily slid the blade through the base of his cock. Jack struggled to keep his hand steady; his arm was vibrating with anger and heat. He grunted as he kept cutting. Blood started pooling beneath them. Jack's hands suddenly slipped, but he dug his nails in for support. “Jack!” Meredith shrieked, “ _Jack_!” After several sharp tugs, Jack felt a release. Jack pulled back, panting. He awkwardly crawled up to Meredith’s stomach, straddling him. Meredith couldn’t speak, his face contorted in pain and dripping with thick streams of mucous and saliva.

“Aw, _Merry_ ," Jack sighed happily, "was it as good for you as it was for me?” He looked down at him and smiled.

Meredith’s voice croaked in response.

“I fuckin’ hope so. Open up, baby,” Jack squeezed Meredith’s mouth open and firmly shoved his dismembered cock into his throat, causing him to gag.

Jack hopped up and stepped away, watching Meredith squirm loudly as he choked and rolled on his back. Jack rolled his eyes impatiently. He stepped back over to him and gave him a swift kick in the face, and the room immediately fell silent. Jack leaned over, hurled, and spit on his face. “Fuckin’ cun _t_ ,” he said before he walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He hummed to himself as he scrubbed his hands and dried them on his damp jeans. He strolled out of the bathroom and called to Bobito. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew- we made it! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter and hope that you enjoyed reading it. Drop me a line or leave your kudos- we have one more chapter to go where Jack heads back to Harleen's. Stay tuned!


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited back at Harleen's studio.

_Harleen’s Studio, Somewhere Near The Narrows, December 25th, 1998_

Harleen sighed melodramatically and collapsed on the sofa, bouncing on the worn-down cushions. She had just stepped out (more like tumbled out) of a steaming shower and had slipped on an oversized t-shirt and black panties, her trademark after-hours look. Her hair was towel-dried and messy, the brown-blonde strands scattered over her shoulders. The balls of her cheeks were still red and blotchy from the shower- and the alcohol that she stomached. She tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear and fumbled with the backing of her thick gold hoop earring. She looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall; it was a quarter past midnight. She mumbled something to herself and shakily poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle that rested on the coffee table. It was a gift from the Department after her White Coat Ceremony. Yeah, fat chance of her ever becoming a doctor at this rate. She filled her glass with deep red wine, and she rested the bottle back on the table, stuffing the cork in halfway. She folded her legs and leaned back into the sofa, taking a deep sip of her Cabernet and flicking on the television. _Whatta night_. She thought that Jack would be here by now. Her mind wandered as she took another sip. She felt the heat pooling uncomfortably in her crotch. “Easy, girl,” she mumbled to herself as she slid her fingers into her panties, stroking herself absentmindedly. “Daddy’ll be here _any_ minute now.”

 _Knock, knock, bang, knock_. Harleen jumped, snatching her hand out of her panties. “Harl?” Jack called from behind the door. She squealed and clumsily placed her overfilled glass on the coffee table, spilling wine onto the dingy carpet. She stumbled a few steps to the door, opening it. Jack looked like he had just taken a shower. His hair was still damp, and he smelled strongly of cheap soap. Was that a different sweater?

Jack held up the bag with the pastramis. Harleen squealed and clapped her hands excitedly. “Pickles?” she asked, bouncing on her heels.

“I’m a man of my _word_ , aren’t I?” Jack smiled down at her.

“I love you so much!” Harleen said in one breath as flung herself onto Jack, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Jack quickly grabbed Harleen by the waist and hoisted her back into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind them. “You know you’re my girl, baby,” he said. He propped her on the kitchen counter and put the bag of hot deli sandwiches next to her. Harleen kicked her feet back and forth as she sat on the counter, looking at Jack as he took off his jacket and tossed it onto the space heater near the bathroom. Harleen stuck her leg out, hooking it around Jack’s hip as he turned back to her. She slid both legs around his hips and slid forward on the counter, pulling him toward her. “Hi,” she said once Jack was right in front of her, her legs wrapped tightly around him. Jack leaned into her, resting his hands on her knees and rubbing her sculpted thighs with his dry hands. “ _Hi_ ,” he said back.

“What took ya?” Harleen pouted.

Jack sighed. “So, I had to, uh, _wrestle_ with Mik-ael for the sandwiches because he said that the deli was closed, but I _knew_ that it wasn’t closed. He was just tryin’ to pull my-”

“Uh-huh,” Harleen interrupted as she traced the collar of Jack’s sweater with her self-manicured nail. “You’re lyin’, J.”

“I am?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, looking down at her. “Uh-huh, _mhmm_ , you’re lyin’. We both know Mikaelos don’t work on holidays.”

“Uh, you caught me,” he said sheepishly. That’s the thing with them. Sure, it was only a few months, but it took one to know one. And Harleen knew whenever Jack was lying, even if he swore to only tell her the truth- whatever that was, exactly. 

He slid a hand into her damp hair and pulled her towards him, pausing briefly and looking down at her. He could smell the warm stench of alcohol clashing with her soft, powdery body wash. It made him sick to his stomach. She looked up at him and kept her eyes on his lips. "You gonna make me wait? she asked with a smirk. He hated how cheap she became after a few rounds, but he knew that she'd never do this with anybody but him. That made it, uh, easier. He briefly considered telling her about Meredith, how triumphant it was, how _good_ it felt- fuck, how hard it made him _for her_. But that calculus crashed as he surrendered to every fantasy that he'd conjured up on the way to the apartment and leaned into her. He kissed her roughly. She whimpered and pulled back, tugging him with her. He bit down on her swollen bottom lip, and he promptly slid his tongue into her mouth. He could taste the different liquors dancing on her tongue and knew that she wasn’t fully there. She moaned as he deepened the kiss, and she squeezed legs tightly around him. He pulled away, looking down at her. She looked at him in a lusty daze. 

He scooped her off the counter and stumbled them over to her cushy armchair. It came with the apartment and would be useful eventually, Harleen reasoned. She bounced onto his lap, quickly turning around straddling him as he propped his legs off one arm, his back resting on the other. His body sank into the too-soft cushion as Harleen positioned her hips snug on top of his. She rolled back and forth, feeling his growing erection. He slid his hands up her thighs and under her shirt, gripping her tight ass. Harleen gasped and and leaned forward, kissing him messily. She loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. She urgently rolled her hips against him, and he bit back a moan as he slid his hands to her hips, guiding her as she rocked against him. He was hard, and Harleen was chasing any delicious friction that she could get in this position. His tongue darted into her mouth, and she moaned loudly. She was incredibly turned on and sloppy, rolling with her instincts and not with her head. Jack never liked when she was like this. It made it less real for him. But still, he wouldn't deny her. He didn't want to. Harleen felt slick and warm as her panties clung to her uncomfortably. Jack’s jeans were starting to irritate her. She slid her hands down and began to undo his fly. He quickly grabbed both of her wrists in one tight grip, startling her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her panties off, throw her on the carpet, and slide into her heat, but he wasn't an _animal_. He still had some kind-of decorum. He wasn’t going to let this spill over and do something that they'd, uh, regret. Harleen broke the kiss and pulled away, whining.

“Ow, Jack, _stop_!” She struggled in his grip. “Let go, c’mon.”

Jack released her and tried to catch his breath. “Why’d you stop me?” Harleen breathed, rubbing her wrists.

Jack shook his head. “Not here,” he said, “let’s go to your room.”

Harleen hopped off of him and walked a few steps to her bedroom, Jack following suit. She bounced on the mattress and laid back, stretching. She felt dizzy lying down, the blues and blacks and yellows of the room spinning in front of her. She blinked a few times, but the room was rapidly becoming more of a blur. Jack kicked the door shut and pulled off his sweater, jeans, and socks. He was in his undershirt and boxers as he walked over to Harleen sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling with her hands resting on her stomach. “Room still spinning?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” she gushed, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Jack laughed. “You’re so predictable, Harl.”

He climbed on top of her. She spread her legs beneath him, and he slid a hand down into her panties. He propped himself on his elbow, making sure that he didn’t rest on top of her before she got nauseated (happened once when they were both too drunk to stand). He swore under his breath as his fingers explored her. She was dripping. He slid his fingers over her slit back and forth before rubbing her clit in small, tight circles. Harleen hissed and squirmed beneath him.

“More,” she breathed. “Ask _nice_ ly,” Jack taunted as his fingers hovered over her opening. “ _Please_ ,” she forced out. He slid two fingers into her, and her hips bucked against him as he pumped them quickly. “ _Fuck_ ,” she cried out. Her thighs began to quake as he pumped faster, his erection throbbing in his boxers. “Fuck me, _please_ ,” she whimpered, “I-I don’t wanna wait.” Jack bit his tongue and desperately fought the urge to pound into her, burying himself at the hilt. He couldn’t, though- not a sloppy fuck on Christmas night. He didn’t want that. Harleen was so much more than just _that_.

“Jack, _please_!” she cried out hoarsely as she felt tears swelling in her eyes. He began to curl his fingers inside of her, tugging at that all-too-sensitive spot that he knew would cause her to crash and burn. She cried out again, a tight grip in his hair and another tugging on the sheet beneath her. He leaned into her shoulder and ran his tongue outside the shell of her earlobe. “Gonna come for me, Harl?” he panted into her ear. She nodded. “Huh?” he asked again, dragging and rubbing his fingers along her walls. “ _Yeah_ ,” she whimpered as he felt her clamp down on his fingers. She cried out again as she rode out her first climax. Jack closed his eyes and bit back a groan. He waited a few moments for her to relax before he pulled his fingers out of her, sliding them into his mouth. He sucked them clean, drinking in her heady taste. Harleen panted, wiping the tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Jack sat up on his knees, looking down at Harleen, blissed out as her fast climax. “ _Hey_ ,” he lightly patted her cheek a few times. “Yeah?” she whispered, opening her eyes and looking at him. “Still dizzy?” he asked. “Yeah,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut again. Jack chuckled. Oh, his Harleen. “Let’s stop,“ he said as he got off of her. “No!” Harleen sat up, her tangled hair a mess. She grabbed him by the arm. “I wanna keep goin’. Please, Jack?”

“No, sweet-girl, I really think that you oughta sleep this out. Don’t want you to feel like dogshit in the morning.” Jack climbed back on top of her. Well, maybe a little longer wouldn't be too much. “You hear me?” he asked knowing exactly what she was going to do next.

“Nuh-uh,” Harleen said, grabbing his wifebeater and pulling him down to her, kissing him greedily. He wasn’t going to fuck her, but damn, he would get close. He began to tug her panties down her hips. She shimmied them off and with a swift kick, they flew to the other end of the room. Jack slid out of his boxers. Without breaking the kiss, he positioned himself above her clit and pressed into her. She groaned loudly into the kiss as she felt him place pressure onto her clit, the feel of his cock against her making her throb to her core. Jack pulled away slightly. “Let’s, uh, try this,” he breathed. Jack slid against her. She swore. She slid a hand into his hair, making knots and pulling tightly. She rolled her hips as he slid against her, desperately seeking any kind of friction between their bodies. He could feel her getting wetter, and he was tempted to slide into her and make her scream. He inhaled deeply and fought against it. He buried his head into her shoulder. This would be enough for the both of them- for now.

It was getting hard for him to steady his thrusts as he get closer. He heavily propped himself back on his elbows and groaned as he slid more frantically against her swollen clit, fluid dripping from his head. He grunted, grinding his teeth. She spread her legs wider and bucked her hips upward, feeling his length against all of her deep pressure points. She pulled him by the hair back down to kiss her as she slid her other hand down and began to rub his tip with the pad of her thumb. He broke the kiss and swore under his breath as he suddenly came, hot ejaculate spreading onto Harleen’s bloated stomach. “Fuck,” Harleen whimpered as he dropped his elbows and collapsed on top of her. Jack struggled to catch his breath, his heart pounding into his ears. Harleen pulled her t-shirt over her head, and Jack rested his head on her breasts. He stayed there for a few moments. Harleen ran her fingers through his knotted waves and stared at the ceiling, swallowing a wave of nausea. Once he came to, he lazily rolled his mouth over one of her small, perky breasts, sliding his tongue against her light brown nipple and sucking on it. He looked up at her, his dark, almost black eyes shining with the glow from the streetlights outside her window.

Harleen giggled. “You really love me, huh?” she blurted out, looking down at him. He raised a brow at her and reluctantly pulled away from her breasts, propping himself on one elbow. “What do you think, _doctor-in-training_?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Whatta wise guy,” she smiled toothily.

Jack smiled back. She was so silly. “Still dizzy?”

“Uh-huh. Wanna come again, too.”

“M _mm_. Think you can pull a balancin’ act for a while?”

“As long as I can hold onto somethin’, I’m golden.”

Jack got off of Harleen and rested his head against the pillows. “C’mere,” he said. Harleen crawled over him and up to his face. “Am I gettin’ this right?” she asked him, her thighs on either side of his shoulders. “Uh-huh. If it’s too much, we can do somethin’ else.”

Harleen hovered over his face. He leaned up and slowly slid his tongue over her slit. She gasped and was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. “Nope,” she swallowed quickly, “I can’t.” Jack laughed. “On your back, baby,” he said as Harleen clumsily crawled off of him and laid next to him. He got on top of her and leaned in. He sucked on her breasts again, biting and kneading roughly with his hands. Harleen winced. “Easy,” she said as Jack tongued and bit down on the side of her breast. That was gonna leave a nasty mark that she'd have to ice in the morning. He slid to the other side bit harder. “ _Jack_ ,” she whined. Jack laughed against her chest. _So_ sensitive whenever she wanted to be. He looked up at her, and she pouted. "Don't be mean," she said. "You love it when I'm mean," Jack quipped.

He slid down to her swollen pussy, easing off the mattress and getting on his knees. He roughly pulled her body closer to him, so his face was aligned with her. He pushed her thighs open, and he leaned in, sliding his tongue against her. Harleen gasped and snaked her hands into the sheets, gripping tightly. He pressed his nose against her and sucked quickly on her clit, her hips bucking against him. As he sucked, he slid two fingers into her. She groaned- she was getting sore from earlier. "So mean," she whimpered. He ran his tongue against her folds and rubbed his nose against her, biting down, and nipping her nub. She hissed. He pumped his fingers and felt her starting to coat his lips and tongue. He curled his fingers with ease again as she began to relax. He lapped at her more quickly as her taste filled his mouth, dulling his senses. She bucked her hips erratically and cried out as he felt her hit her second climax. She cursed loudly as he pulled his fingers out before she was ready. “ _Fuck_ ,” she cried out as Jack propped himself on top of her, holding one of her quaking thighs open with his knee. He thrust his fingers in at a deeper angle as she tightened painfully around him. She panted, looking up at him. He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. She eagerly sucked on his tongue, her taste acidic, bitter, and spicy. When the wave had subsided, Jack slowly pulled his fingers out of her. Harleen whimpered. “Open up for Daddy, baby,” Jack said as Harleen opened her mouth, tongue out. Jack slid his fingers in, and she sucked them deeply, the acidity caking her mouth again. She hummed as he slid his fingers out and wiped them on the sheet.

He rolled off of her and turned to his side, extending an arm. Harleen curled into him, her back against his chest. He coiled an arm around her. He brushed some of her hair off the pillow and leaned in to kiss the back of her neck. Harleen froze. Jack quickly pulled away. He could feel her getting stiff, her breathing becoming shallow. “ _Hey_ ,” he asked, “what happened?”

“Nothin’,” she said, shaking her head. She ran her fingers against the back of her neck, itching it roughly with her nails. “Just a rash or somethin’.”

“Don’t look like no rash to me,” Jack said, a tinge of what sounded like a cross between rage and concern in his voice.

“Let it go,” she said tiredly, “please.” Everything started to crash onto her all of a sudden, a wave of nausea turning in her stomach.

Jack sat up and opened the top drawer in the nightstand. He pulled out a pack of menthols. Maybe she should tell him…

“Jack,” Harleen swallowed, her back against his thighs as he puffed on his menthol. “Yeah, Harl?” he exhaled. He rested a hand on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. She jumped. “Don’t,” she said. Jack pulled his hand away. The air in the room was getting thicker, and Harleen knew that she had to say something.

She turned, propped herself on her elbow, and looked up at him with those big ol' mournful eyes. “Meredith did some, uh… _Weird_ stuff. He grabbed my shoulder just like that… and he especially liked behind my neck,” Harleen’s voice got quieter as she continued speaking. She braced for impact.

Jack scoffed, the taste of Harleen and the sharpness of the menthol souring in his mouth. “So you don’t _trust_ me, is that it?” Jack said harsher than he had intended. “You think I’m some _creep_ , like that fuckface? _Huh_?” Harleen's face fell. “No!” she sprang up, ignoring her nausea. _Shit_. “No, no, _no_ , baby, you know I don’t think that way about you-“ she said, trying to rest her hands against his arms, touch him, something-

“Then why are you afraid of me?” Jack looked at her, pulling away slightly, his features darkening. “You shouldn’t be even _thinking_ about him righ _t_ now, not after this-“

“I’m not!” Harleen said, exasperated. Her chest started to tighten. “I just, I was just reminded of, I thought that I should-“ Harleen tripped over her words.

Jack rolled his eyes and grabbed Harleen by the face, squishing her cheeks in his wiry hand. She whimpered loudly. It hurt. “Harleen,” Jack said sternly, “Listen _good_. I am _not_ likeMeredith… Am I?”

Harleen shook her head vigorously.

“Okay, then. Glad we, uh, cleared that u _p_." Harleen whined in his grip, suddenly becoming very aware of her teeth as his fingers tightened their grip on her face. "Hey," Jack said as he noticed Harleen drifting off. "Over here," he shook her face. She looked at him, trying hard to keep her eyes open. "You think I like doing this to you, baby?" Jack asked. Harleen shook her head. "Sometimes you get people mixed up, and it makes me, uh, angry. Why do you like making me angry, Harl?" Harleen shook her head again, her cheeks beginning to throb. Her throat ran dry. "Baby," Jack started, his voice low, "you know that I will never do anything to hurt you. Why don’t you trust me?”

Harleen shook her head again.

“Use your words, Harl. You _do_ trust me?”

She nodded as tears started to swell in her eyes.

Jack let her go, eyeing her as she choked on a sob, rubbing her reddened cheeks with her palms. "Jack," she whimpered, "don't be like that, baby, c'mon." She sniffed and tried to calm herself down. "I trust you with everything, you _know_ that. You know that I love you, right?” she said as seriously as she could without being thrown into her own hysterics. Jack glared at her cautiously. “Right?” Harleen asked again, the feeling of sudden guilt compounding her worsening nausea. There were those eyes again. "You know how much you-" 

"I know," Jack cut her off with a gruff. He sighed and rolled his eyes, opening an arm up for her. With a small squeal, she snuggled up to him and wrapped an arm over his waist. He slid his hand into her hair and rolled his fingers around the knotted strands. “Then don’t be afraid of me- ever," Jack said, looking down at her as she turned to look up at him. "Even if things change. Even if _we_ change. Just... trust me. I'm _not_ the bad guy."

Harleen sniffed. “Sorry, baby,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me,” she said.

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re learning. This is, uh... new… You’re my girl, whether you like it or not.” Jack paused suddenly. He couldn’t believe that those words had just come out of his mouth.

She smiled up him, sniffing. “You mean it?”

He nodded tightly.

"Would you even kill for me?" Weird question coming from her, but Harleen was always full of surprises.

Jack couldn't help but laugh. "In a heartbeat, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this Christmas fic: thanks to everyone who read and commented. I hope that you liked how I wrapped this up (hehe.) Stay tuned for more mishaps with our favorite Ph.D students- will be uploading more frequently in the coming weeks!


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